


second chances (hearts don’t break around here)

by weisjenga



Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Two Shot, fluff? :o, it literally starts with jinwoo dying, lapslock, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 03:26:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17993957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weisjenga/pseuds/weisjenga
Summary: sometimes you think you have all the time in the world. and maybe you do, but maybe you don’t. if you could go back, what would you do differently? say all the words you left unsaid? the thing is, death doesn’t give second chances.





	second chances (hearts don’t break around here)

**Author's Note:**

> I've been thinking about this since last may, started it two different times (i forgot I started writing it and then,, started on a new document hahaha), and finally finally here we are!
> 
> aggressively not proofread

_hallelujah, you’re home_

_…_

            everything was grey in the room. the beginnings of a long night peered through the curtains, manifested in the form of feeble moonlight, yearning for attention over the hazy city glow. light grey. shadows cut harshly across the floor, cast an outline of the metal bed. dark grey. jinwoo’s black hair falling over his too-white face and dongmin trying trying _trying_ not to blink, for if he did, he was afraid that the tears would fall and he would never be able to see these hands in his own again.

            “dongmin, go home. it’s late,” jinwoo whispered, the sound the same shade as the space between them.

            red. that was the colour of the constant, rhythmic beeps. staccato intervals accented over steady breaths. jinwoo’s hand was surprisingly warm, dongmin thought, for someone who looked…

            he looked fine and that was the thing, the thing that made it so difficult for dongmin to believe that

            he was dying.

            so, because jinwoo was dying, dongmin said to his request, “no.”

            “they’ll kick you out of here soon anyway,” the older boy pointed out. his eyes were closed.

            dongmin frowned, considered this, and sighed.

            “i have to tell you something,” jinwoo blinked his eyes open and moved to sit up. dongmin let him. “i don’t know why you suddenly decided to come see me – i mean, god, it’s been _years_ since we’ve talked. your parents probably made you, didn’t they? but listen, i’ve had a lot of time to think lately. some things don’t matter as much as i thought they did, and some things aren’t worth being afraid of. you can’t laugh though, okay?

            “and i know maybe i shouldn’t say this now, but don’t let the fact that i’m dying” – casual, _so casual_ – “change your answer. you don’t even have to answer me now. i love you, dongmin. don’t you remember when –”

            “w-what?” dongmin dropped jinwoo’s hand. the void room stole every word out of his throat and swallowed them whole, in a place where jinwoo couldn’t hear his answer. he didn’t know what he would say if he let himself talk.

            jinwoo smiled, and a sliver of light came into the room.

            dongmin wished he could sort out his thoughts where time meant nothing. he stood and jinwoo’s eyes followed him. the door opened and the room flooded with the not-quite-yellow of the hallway as a nurse gently informed him that _visiting times are over._

            “i’ll see you tomorrow,” dongmin released the words hurriedly, posed as a question, asking for permission.

            “of course. see you tomorrow, min,” jinwoo’s voice felt like a sigh too loud for the darkness.

            _min._ it caught him off guard. god, it really had been years.

            _tomorrow,_ dongmin thought, _tomorrow i’ll tell you..._

…

dongmin burst through the doors – as much as someone _could_ burst through automatic sliding doors, that is. flowers in hand, he turned corner after corner (dongmin was certain he may have turned the same corner a few too many times) until he found jinwoo’s room.

it was empty. in the daylight it looked wrong somehow, even though it was all white and sun through the window, it didn’t feel nearly as warm as it had the night before. a doctor passed by, stopped, asked him in a soft, kind voice if he was looking for jinwoo.

and dongmin knew. he didn’t need someone in a white coat to tell him nicely, _he’s dead._ dongmin knew, he just didn’t want to believe it. “i saw him yesterday,” he said dumbly. turning, he pushed his way back through the halls before anyone could say anything else.

 _yesterday._ he hadn’t planned to stay so long. it was supposed to just be just a short visit. he’d hardly wanted to go anyway and he probably wouldn’t have if it weren’t for his mother making him feel guilty about how _they used to be such good friends._ used to. what had happened? dongmin didn’t know. they saw each other and they talked, they talked and saw each other until one day, one day they didn’t anymore. and dongmin had expected that after all this time of _not_ seeing each other and _not_ talking that something would have changed by now. he figured he would have been just fine having never seen jinwoo again.

dongmin stepped back outside, the dull ringing inside his head pierced through by the sudden chill. absentmindedly, he tugged at his thin jacket, suddenly thinking that he really ought to walk in the cold more often, just to feel on his skin a prickling reminder that he was alive.

he understood now why they always told people to sit down before delivering the news. really, dongmin mused, he should be sitting right now. or lying down, or a variety of other activities that were not walking home with a fog over his thoughts and a strange nothing in his heart. was he supposed to feel sad right now? they had hardly spoken in so long, dongmin practically didn’t know the other boy. but once, _once…_

…

            dongmin peeked between the slats of a wooden fence. from the other side, voices floated through, unfamiliar and strange over the quiet that dongmin had grown used to. the house next to his own had been empty for some time. grass overflowed onto the stone path to the front door and the backyard was a tangle of wildflowers. not quite tall enough to see directly over the fence, he settled for watching through the planks, seeing the house next to his be forced to life. he saw curtains being thrown open, couches carried in, boxes settled down. amazed, dongmin marveled at how many _things_ could be fit into a house without it bursting at the seams.

            from the kitchen, his mother leaned out the back door to call dongmin inside for lunch. he spared one last glance to the commotion beyond his own yard and to his surprise, there was a boy looking back at him. dongmin yelled. the other boy yelled.

            later, when the sun was still high, dongmin’s mother brought him one house down. _let’s bring some fruit to our new neighbours,_ she had suggested. in the heavy afternoon they stood at the front door and when it opened, dongmin stepped out from behind his mother’s legs to see another boy doing the same. a little taller than himself with hair flopping over his forehead, dongmin eyed him suspiciously.

            then, “i’m jinwoo,” the other said, with a bright grin and smiley eyes.

            dongmin tilted his head, hesitated for a moment, then introduced himself.

            “let’s be friends,” said the boy named jinwoo.

            “okay,” replied dongmin, simply.

            and that was how they met.

…

            a short distance from the hospital, there was a park. clean gravel paths and trimmed trees and dongmin let himself be pulled in, the static sound of traffic fading as he cut through. he seated himself on a bench, cold of the chilled wood creeping through. overhead, the winter sun offered little warmth, but dongmin smiled nonetheless at its presence. a small smile as he felt no joy, hell, he hardly felt anything at all. it didn’t hurt.

_how dare the sun shine on a day like this?_

…

            their whole world was years and years of coming home after school together and a _see you tomorrow, min._ their evenings were side-by-side separated by the span between their bedroom windows. when they grew tired of schoolwork they would write each other messages, blocky letters held up on sheets of paper and their own secret jokes.

            weekends found them chasing each other around the town on their bikes. in a rainy autumn, when the ground was layered with fallen leaves and from the sky hung heavy clouds and rolling thunder, jinwoo and dongmin were caught in a downpour. halfway across the long bridge over a surging river and desperate to get out of the rain, they rode faster and faster. a little too fast down the next street and around the corner and dongmin saw jinwoo skid in front of him. jinwoo flew off his bike and dongmin braked too hard and joined the other boy on the side of the street.

            both their hands were bleeding. the scrapes stung sharply in the cold and shirts soaked through, dongmin thought he would never remember what being warm felt like again. they walked their bikes the rest of the way home.

            “i can’t believe you fell too,” jinwoo said.

            dongmin pushed his bangs out of his eyes. “i was coming to save you, obviously.”

            “how heroic!”

            “i’ll save you next time for sure,” dongmin promised.

amidst the leaves and the crying sky, they laughed.

…

            _i’m sorry, i should have spent more time with you,_ thought dongmin, looking over the blue-grey water. he leaned into the side of the bridge. the edges of the stone were worn, smoother to the touch than dongmin remembered. somewhere, in permanent marker, they had scrawled their names and let the world know that they had been here. dongmin spent half an hour walking up and down the length of the bridge trying to find the spot. either it had escaped him, or this had become another memory faded. frustrated, dongmin tried to pinpoint the exact moment they had drifted apart. he couldn’t.

…

            it was the summer before jinwoo was supposed to start high school. in dongmin’s bedroom, the two of them sprawled across the bed atop assigned readings. blanketed in the heat, they stared up lazily at the ceiling. there was a mobile of the solar system still hung up from when jinwoo had made it for a school project, decided it was too ugly to keep, and bestowed it upon dongmin. like any good friend, he had proudly displayed it. now, a little faded and missing pluto, it swayed in the whirring of the electric fan (which honestly, was doing very little to help with the heat).

            dongmin knew they were both pondering the same thought that had been on their minds the entire summer: jinwoo would be going to high school, and they wouldn’t be together anymore. not for the next year, at least. dejected, dongmin nudged jinwoo sharply in the ribs.

            _“ow,”_ exclaimed jinwoo as he leaped up from the bed.

            “sorry,” dongmin chuckled, still lying down.

            they looked at each other.

            finally, dongmin sighed and sat up. “i’ll miss you, you know.”

            jinwoo pulled dongmin off the edge of the bed and into a tight hug. dongmin rested his chin on the older boy’s shoulder; it had been a long time since the other could claim being the taller one.

            jinwoo reassured him, “nothing’s gonna change.”

            (what a lie.)

           

            over the next year, dongmin watched jinwoo coming home, saw his desk lamp on later and later into the night as he suddenly had even more assignments to write, exams to study for. once in a while, dongmin would try to catch his attention, hold up notes like they used to. and most of the time, the other boy would mouth a _sorry_ , shake his head, and turn back to his work. by the new year, jinwoo didn’t even leave his blinds up anymore.

            when they did get a spare moment to meet, jinwoo told dongmin about how he joined the dance club, about all the new friends he’d made. he said _none of them are as great as you, though,_ but it didn’t feel that way.

            by the time dongmin walked in those school doors a year later, he felt like jinwoo had completely forgotten about him. waves in the hallway felt awkward and jinwoo was always surrounded by his new group of friends.

            and everything had changed.

…

            slowly, dongmin walked through his neighbourhood. he was tired. one by one, he thought about every opportunity he didn’t take to keep his friendship with jinwoo. every time they could have spent time together but he had said no. and out of what, pride? each breath he took felt heavier and heavier until he was dragging himself through the guilt. so many chances he’d had to tell jinwoo how much their friendship had meant to him. countless and countless and yet, he never had. not once. and now he couldn’t.

            _i’m sorry, so sorry, for every year, month, day we didn’t have together._

_…_

            jinwoo was looking at him. dongmin could feel it. he glanced up from his textbook to see across the same distance as always, like he’d given up on doing ages ago, to see those same eyes smiling and a grin softer than he remembered, facing back at him.

            tomorrow, jinwoo was graduating. dongmin didn’t even know what the other had planned next, whether he’d ever see jinwoo again. he caught jinwoo’s gaze, and as soon as he did, jinwoo waved shyly and looked away, closed his blinds. gone.

            the next day, dongmin found flowers on his doorstep.

 

…

_…and jinwoo, i knew._

if anyone asked him now, dongmin would say that was the last time he saw jinwoo. but it wasn’t. he saw jinwoo in every sunny day, every corner of the town. he hadn’t forgotten his friend, the one he’d spent his entire childhood with. maybe he could say now that they would have grown out of each other, still somehow, dongmin didn’t believe that was true.

            it wasn’t fair. dongmin walked up to his door, unable to bear looking at the house next to his own. he wanted to take everything back to that day, relive and cherish all the moments he had with jinwoo. _you liar, you said i’d see you again._

            inside, flowers, coat, tears dropped. he hadn’t had enough time. he wouldn’t get a second chance, but

_but_

_what i had wanted to tell you was –_

_what i should have told you was –_

_i love you, too._

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on [tumblr](https://eunwoohearts.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/weisjenga)!


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